


Help Me Hold On

by kaylakaboo



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22785262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaylakaboo/pseuds/kaylakaboo
Summary: Guilt is a hell of a thing.
Relationships: Adam Ruzek/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Help Me Hold On

Adam Ruzek was no stranger to death. It was a part of his everyday life, something he wrestled and fought to defeat. But you? You were different, and to him that was the best thing about you. Sweet and beautiful, untouched by the treacheries this world can commit.

On the days he finds himself wrecked with images of vacant stares and blood-stained concrete, he finds peace in your arms, solace in your smile.

When an old childhood friend of yours who got lost in the darkest parts of this city comes up with a bullet to the back of the head, Adam promises they’re on it. You go on about your life, try to push it as far down as you can.

One night he shows up, tells you they finally got the bastard. It turns out he killed her because he found out she was working to bring him down, trying to save a set of twins she had taken in from living the life she had.

“It seems she turned herself around.” He tells you. “She was just trying to do the right thing.”

Something in you shatters.

When you begin to sob, awful choking sounds that shake his foundation, he’s caught off guard. As far as he knew, you hadn’t seen this girl in years and you hadn’t seemed too distraught by her death before. What had changed?

He pulls you to him, holds you as tight as he can and you fist your hands into his flannel. When your knees fall from beneath you, he carries you to your bed to lay you down and curls around you. You bury yourself in him, breath in the mint of his aftershave.

You cry for hours and he doesn’t say a single word, just lays there placing feather light kisses everywhere his lips can reach. When you finally fall asleep, he stays the whole night.

He makes waffles in the morning; you act like nothing happened and he does the same.

You begin to change.

It’s slow and quiet at first. He notices you staring off more often, shrouding yourself in dim lit rooms filled with silence. Your books begin to collect dust.

Jay tells him everyone processes loss different.

It grows from there. Festers sour words in the back of your throat and you find them almost impossible to swallow down. You don’t eat the food he brings to your office and his texts go unanswered. He gets so desperate he contacts your best friend; she tells him she hasn’t heard from you either.

He confides in Kim, hoping for better insight. “She cancels plans, goes days without messaging me back, barely talks to me.” He lists off. “I mean the conversations we do have, there’s a point where she just shuts down. I love her and she won’t let me help her.”

“All you can do is show her you’re there for her whenever she’s ready.” Kim says softly.

“She knows.”

“Does she?”

Your phone begins to ring and you stare at it from across the room. It’s a shrill noise for such a quiet night, cracks like thunder in your head. It rings again, and again and you start to contemplate throwing it at the wall. 

On the fourth, you cave, see Adams name and a pit begins to swell in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m just- “

“Let me in.” He says quickly.

“What?”

“It’s actually below freezing out here, let me in.” You contemplate telling him to just go home. “Please.” He adds.

It’s the tone of his voice, rich like honey and the soft consonants boarding on begging that make your feet move. You open the door, but before you can say anything, he jumps inside. He takes his shoes off, places his coat on a hook and makes his way to your living room, completely ignoring your half attempts at excuses and reasons he should probably just go home.

He turns on you. “Look, I don’t know if you are trying to push me away, but it’s not going to work. So, I’m going to sit here and wait as long as it takes for you to finally talk to me about what’s been going on these last few weeks.” He sits in a chair and leans back, props one foot on the coffee table and clasps his hands in his lap.

You curl up on the end of the couch as far from him as this small space allows. You’re silent for a long time, only gnawing on your bottom lip. He starts to get nervous that you won’t end up confiding in him, that maybe he had been wrong. He sighs when he sits up and there’s a hint of frustration in the set of his shoulders.

“She came here.” You start quietly and his eyes shoot up. “A little over a month before she died. Told me she needed help, which usually meant money. She came by every few years and it was always the same story.” Your voice is hollow, haunted.

When you look to him, he sees the bags under your eyes, the bloodshot veins spreading out like cracked glass. It kills him to see you in such pain.

“What if- “ Your voice breaks and your eyes well up. He doesn’t move, barely breathes. Afraid he could startle you back into tortured silence. You close your eyes to try and center yourself. “What if that was what she was coming to me for, to help her do something good? What if she heard I was dating a cop and she actually came looking for you?” You suck in a sharp, ragged breath. “What if I could have saved her?” You sob.

He’s by your side immediately, pulling you into his lap and cradling you to his chest. He whispers words soft as silk and, after months of pushing him far enough away that your fingertips had almost forgotten the feel of him, you hold on to him as tight as you can.

He contemplates telling you all the ways it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known, but guilt is a hell of a thing. He knows he can’t solve it with sweet sentiments or carefully crafted assurances. What he can do is be here with you, hold your hand while you work through the shadows this world has finally shown you, dark places he had hoped you’d never find.

Instead of speaking words he knows you are not ready to hear yet, he holds you close, massages the tips of his fingers into the back of your neck. He waits until your shaking slows, until your cries quiet, until you still. Then he holds you a little longer.

All with the promise that he will always be by your side.

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Adam Ruzek imagine where he comforts his non-cop girlfriend after she lost a friend (bonus if it was a part of an Intelligence case) and helps her since she’s been avoiding dealing with it (changing topics, being busy all the time, etc)
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr! kayla-kaboo


End file.
